Title: He Refused
Author: Areazel
Rating: T/M?
Summery:It's an Alois-Centric fic, just sort of... Character study of how Alois Developed. Just some thoughts.
Comments:I wrote this up when I was having a bad day. I never reread it because I hate reading my own writing so please forgive how terrible it is. It was mostly used for my own personal use but I thought I might as well share my bad writing. Ugh. /hides
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Jim had always wondered why he was here, what was the point? Why had God put him on this earth just to lose everything he once knew how to love. His parents were gone – he barely remembered them – and his brother was gone… He remembered everything about the little boy, and he could never tell which was worse. Remembering nothing or remembering everything. But it didn't matter much anymore, did it? He hadn't wanted the comfort of his parents for years. That thought caused a weak smile to tug at his lips. For years? How could a child of eleven years reminisce on the fact that he hadn't wanted his parents for years. The smile disappeared once he realized it wasn't an amusing thought, it was pathetic. He was pathetic. He hadn't even been able to save his baby brother.
Why on earth had he decided to move on in his life? He had nothing. He had nowhere to go. He had no home, no family, no reason to be here. But apparently that didn't matter, because now he had a use. He was a pretty little boy. Why kill off something pretty like that? His dirty nails dug into his arms, not letting himself scream – the anger churned in his stomach, it made it hard to breath… But only for a moment, suddenly he was exhausted.
Defeated.
He was done.
He was done thinking about why he was here.
He knew. He knew better than any of the other young boys here, he was on this earth to be used. To simply be an object to bring those more deserving happiness. He was eleven and he had accepted that he was a thing. He wasn't a little boy anymore, he wasn't human anymore, he was simply a soft and supple being that Lord Trancy enjoyed – when there was no one else to enjoy.
His once-lively blue eyes looked around in the faint firelight of the dungeon they were living in. Other little boys were asleep, some were crying, some were praying. He started to laugh, just a weak disjointed giggle, but he couldn't help it. They were all praying for help, waiting to be saved. That would never happened. Never! His nails dug into his skin, enough to draw little pricks of blood as he kept a white knuckled grip on himself. He let his head roll back, his dirty blond hair tickling his back as he stared blankly at the ceiling and he couldn't stop giggling. Part of him wondered if this was what Lord Trancy liked, sniffling, needy, pathetic children? Is that what got him off? Or was it their small bodies, the way they felt under him? How easily they broke, how easily they would start to sob and scream.
Maybe that was why he wasn't a favorite – maybe it wasn't his 'dirty eyes'. Maybe it was because he refused to cry. He refused to scream. Refused to become a broken doll. It came more easily when he realized his physical body held no value to him. He was pretty, he did not choose that, he hadn't wanted to be pretty, but Lord Trancy now lusted after him. After his pretty blond hair. After his thin malnourished frame. He now had a use, he wasn't even a adolescence yet, and he hard accepted his body was worthless, and learnt that it could be used. It wasn't degrading if he was using himself, was it? Not that it mattered, he went from having no purpose to being an object of pure, unbridled, sick lust.
Jim was a smart little boy, he didn't let himself black out when he was pinned under the heavy, sweating, panting animal of a man. He learnt, he analyzed, he remembered all the things the man on top of him liked. The only way for him to become the favorite bedmate was for him to be the best. Instead of panicking when he was called up he showed up like a present waiting to be unwrapped. He knew he'd have the greedy lustful mans thick hands grabbing at his clothing. He knew that he'd be pinned under him. He knew he'd feel the mans disgusting mouth against his skin, leaving a trail of spit and bruises – leaving marks of ownership. He knew how much it would hurt to be violated, how much it would hurt the morning after. He knew that his entire body would be throbbing and screaming in pain.
But he also knew that he was still the favorite, he moaned at the right moments, he cried out at the right moments, he pretended to be into it just enough to be a welcome toy. And no one wants to keep such a pretty quiet little toy locked up in the basement? No, he got nice clothing. He got to live outside of the damp, sorrow filled basement. He got to live upstairs.
Jim still didn't know why he was here, why he was placed on this earth – is this what God had really wanted? What sort of God placed little boys on earth only for them to lose everything? What sort of sick God watched helpless children scream in pain and sheer terror as they were violated and abused?
He had decided that God didn't exist, at least not the one that everyone thought about. He had done nothing wrong. He had not deserved this, it was just a sick game that God was playing. A game God was expecting them to loose, but no. Jim refused to loose, but he knew he had do. Jim had to loose, had to die. And he did. One day Jim disappeared, and Alois took his place. Alois Trancy.
Alois Trancy did not lose. If he lost it would mean all those years of suffering had gone to waste. It would mean that deciding to live even after Luka had died was stupid and pointless. Jim died. Jim went to be with his parents and baby brother. Alois remained in Jims well used, broken body.
Alois Trancy would live on.
Alois Trancy had a purpose, he refused to play the sick games God wanted him too.
Alois Trancy would not suffer.
Jim would be proud.